


i walked with you, once upon a dream

by ShitabuKenjirou



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Banter, Dreams, Fluff, M/M, Rated teen for swearing, hqrarepairweek day two: soulmate au, using both relationship tags because it can be read either way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 03:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28503654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShitabuKenjirou/pseuds/ShitabuKenjirou
Summary: Kenjirou was sure that everyone had wished for their dreams to become reality at some point. For him, though, that wish seems to have been taken a bittooliterally.[also known as: that one soulmate au where soulmates meet in their dreams before they meet in real life]
Relationships: Shirabu Kenjirou & Yahaba Shigeru, Shirabu Kenjirou/Yahaba Shigeru
Comments: 9
Kudos: 28





	i walked with you, once upon a dream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DidiTheDragon (fuckgravityimdavidtennantshair)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuckgravityimdavidtennantshair/gifts).



> WE'RE STARTING 2021 OFF WITH A BANG FELLAS WELCOME BACK TO YAHASHIRA HEAVEN
> 
> this is my entry for day two of the hq rarepair week on twitter, with the prompt i picked being "soulmate au". i haven't written one of these before because ~destined romantic love~ frustrates my aromantic ass but i love this one a lot <3 dedicated to my dear wife didi for inspiring this fic in one of our conversations once. love ya!
> 
> i know this isn't a perfect fic, but i'm okay with that for once. i'm just glad to have finished something again :') i hope you enjoy!!

When Kenjirou was five, he dreamt of a playground, with slides that towered higher than the trees and a sandbox filled with all the toys he could wish for. He was the only one there, but he didn’t mind playing by himself. After a while, though, the loneliness crept into his bones and gave him chills, and something in him remembered that his parents would come pick him up soon, to take him home. So he sat down on one of the swings and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It started getting dark, and Kenjirou shivered. Beyond the streetlights lining the playground the world seemed empty and black. Fear gripped his heart like a fist. Where was everyone?

He heard rustling behind him, and Kenjirou slid off the swing and whirled around simultaneously, certain that a demon was coming to get him.

Instead he saw a child around his age, with silver hair and big brown eyes. He looked just as terrified as Kenjirou was, and he held a small bucket with an even smaller shovel, as if he’d been on his way to the playground to spend time in the sandbox. 

Kenjirou didn’t remember them communicating in any way -- just some kind of wave of comfort washing over him. A sense of relief that he wasn’t alone. 

In the dream, the boy with the silver hair had smiled at him, a big gap in the top row of his teeth, as if the feeling was mutual. He stepped forward, took Kenjirou’s hand, and tugged him towards the sandbox to play. As time passed, the world around them grew warmer and lighter, and the last thing Kenjirou could recall before waking up was the voices of his parents, calling his name. 

At that point, Kenjirou had had nightmares before, and in the beginning this dream had definitely felt like one. What stayed with him was how the silver haired boy had literally stumbled into his dream and turned it around, replacing fear and despair with comfort and fun. Kenjirou couldn’t explain it, but it was almost like some kind of outside force had planted this child in his dream to keep it from scaring him awake, turning it into a terrifying memory. 

Back then, Kenjirou hadn’t thought much of it. By the time he’d woken up, only the last few seconds of the dream had lingered in his mind. 

It was when Kenjirou saw the silver-haired boy again three days later that he started paying attention more closely.

According to the dream journals he’d tried his best to keep, Kenjirou had dreamed about the silver haired boy more than two hundred times. There was no clear regularity behind it -- one time Kenjirou dreamt of him four days in a row, and sometimes it took several months for the boy to appear in his dreams again. When he was younger the dreams often involved outrageous adventures, things straight out of fantasy books; but once he got older they seem to morph into something more mundane, more calming, like an island amidst a stormy sea. 

Kenjirou remembered scouring through whatever information he could find about dreaming, as soon as the boy had appeared too often for it to be a coincidence. He used to think that maybe it was a sign from the Gods, but as life went on and his daily schedule got busier, Kenjirou started dismissing it as just his brain having a favourite random face to throw into his dreams. It was just a stranger he’d seen once that his subconscious liked playing around with.

But that didn’t explain why the boy always brought an air of peace and calm with him, to the point that Kenjirou woke up well-rested after his visit without fail. That didn’t explain why the boy seemed to grow up alongside him, how Kenjirou watched him hit his teens and heard his voice drop and listened to him tell stories about a life so similar to -- and yet so different from -- his own.

That didn’t explain why, with how fleeting dreams usually are, Kenjirou felt like he knew the boy like the back of his hand.

“Kenjirou.” A jab in his side. “You’re staring off into the distance again.”

Kenjirou blinked, and before him the volleyball match he’d been watching from the stands reappeared. Next to him, Taichi was looking at him with a mix of amusement and something that resembled pity. 

“Sorry,” Kenjirou muttered. “You were saying?”

“Nothing, nothing. Was just thinking you might start drooling if you sat there just looking at nothing any longer.”

“Ew, no, gross,” Kenjirou said, as Taichi snickered beside him. “It’s none of your business, anyway.”

“Whatever,” Taichi waved it off, fishing his phone out of his track jacket in a way that suggested he was trying his best to hide his curiosity. 

Kenjirou leaned forward and checked the scoreboard of the game in front of him. They just started the third set, and considering the teams were well-matched, it could take a while before the winner was decided. 

Sitting back again, Kenjirou fished his sketchbook out of his bag and propped his feet up against the railing. He noticed Taichi’s attention briefly shifting towards him as he leafed through it to find the page where he left off. 

Kenjirou had gotten over the awkwardness that came with sketching in public. He didn’t care about stranger’s opinions of his art, and he tended to glare them down when they expressed them anyway. When it came to his friends, they understood it was Kenjirou only who could decide whether something he drew was for them to see.

Kenjirou selected a fresh page, and paused, the back of his pencil tapping impatiently on the paper.

On the rare occasion that Kenjirou’s mind was empty, he attempted to draw the boy from his dreams. But no matter how often he’d seen him by now, his face was hard to print to memory, and even harder to dig back up and put onto paper. He must have tried drawing him a dozen times by now, but he could never quite get his face to look right. 

Kenjirou made a few quick sketches in between getting distracted by the match in front of him and Taichi showing him dumb images on his phone. By the time the page was full, Kenjirou was about ready to snap his pencil in half. The faces didn’t resemble the silver-haired boy at all. His eyes too big, his hair too curly, his smile too lopsided. One time he even forgot the lone dimple that appeared when the boy grinned mischievously. 

Kenjirou snapped his sketchbook shut and got up, slinging his bag over his shoulder. The match playing out seemed to have almost reached its end. 

“I’m going to the bathroom real quick. See you downstairs?”

Kenjirou didn’t wait for an answer before shuffling out of the stands. He frowned at his sketchbook as he descended the stairs. One day he’d do the boy justice.

Maybe. Hopefully. 

Kenjirou was lamenting having to remove the tape from his fingers so he could properly wash his hands after his bathroom visit when someone’s shoulder slammed into him, sending his sketchbook flying. It landed face-down on the floor, crinkling the pages. 

“Hey, watch it!” Kenjirou sneered. He turned to pick up his sketchbook, but paused as his gaze landed on the face of the offender. 

He recognized that face. 

The boy that stood across from him, maybe two meters away, mirrored the expression Kenjirou knew he was wearing. His big, brown eyes blinked, and he quickly ran a hand through his wavy silver hair, eyebrows furrowing. 

“What?” he snapped. “If you’re passive aggressively waiting for me to pick up your book, just say so.”

Kenjirou snapped out of his stupor right as the boy stepped forward, and they knelt by Kenjirou’s sketchbook simultaneously. Both of their hands shot out, and Kenjirou pulled his back as if he’d been burned when he briefly touched the boy’s warm, long fingers. When the boy hesitated in response, Kenjirou snatched his sketchbook from the ground and got to his feet, turning his back to the boy and carefully smoothing out the pages. His fingertips briefly traced the outlines of the sketches he made of the silver-haired boy from his dreams.

“I’m sorry,” the boy said awkwardly behind him. “I didn’t mean t-- hey, wait a minute--”

Suddenly his voice was right next to Kenjirou’s ears, and reflexively he pushed his sketchbook shut with a loud  _ clap _ and created distance between him and the boy. 

Who was now looking at him with infinite questions in his eyes. 

~~~~

Kenjirou hadn’t dreamt of the silver-haired boy since that strange encounter. 

It had only been a few months, so he knew from experience it wasn’t unlikely for the dreams to return soon; but with every passing day his hopes withered a little bit more. 

A part of him missed the company of the boy with the silver hair. 

He missed the way the boy’s laughter made a home in his chest, the way his company seemed to chase all his worries away. He missed the feeling of being around someone who  _ saw _ him, who knew him inside and out, even if the boy was a figment of his imagination. 

… But was he really?

Kenjirou had plenty of things to worry about -- like his upperclassmen leaving volleyball club soon to focus on their college entrance exams and tests of his own hovering threateningly in the near future -- but even with his busy mind his thoughts somehow always returned to the boy from his dreams. Kenjirou hated puzzles he couldn’t solve, and this was the biggest one yet. 

Who was the boy who had appeared in his dreams for so long? And why did not seeing him for so long leave him with a hole in his chest?

With noise-cancelling headphones covering his ears, Kenjirou weaved through the people wandering around the mall near Shiratorizawa Academy. The heating did little to fight off the unusually frigid air for early November as he found the stationery store and ducked inside, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck. Midway through studying his last functioning highlighter had finally given up on life, and several of his notebooks were close to being full, so this was an errand he couldn’t put off any longer. 

He breezed through the aisles and found what he needed, along with some additional supplies he might as well buy now that he was here anyway. He wanted to be back in time for dinner, possibly even get some more cramming done before then. No time for distractions. 

Kenjirou briefly removed his headphones out of politeness while he paid for his things, awkwardly leaving it hanging around his neck, smushed between his scarf and his chin. He smiled at the cassier, pushed his purchases in his messenger bag and left the store, fiddling with his headphones. Just as he was about to put them back on again, something made him pause.

He was just a few shops away from the center of the mall, where a piano was stationed for passersby to play with. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to catch someone playing -- though not everyone was particularly skilled. Sometimes Kenjirou noticed someone bringing some soothing tunes into the world and stopped to listen, just for a moment, to clear his head. Sometimes he even recognized the song the person played.

What made him stop in his tracks this time is that he was certain no one could possibly know this song. No one but him.

Him and  _ one  _ other person. 

Kenjirou’s feet were moving towards the source of the music before he knew it. A handful of people stood around the piano, listening silently. He stepped around a few passersby, and the pianist came into view.

Not much later the boy with the silver hair, having been fully immersed in his music before, caught Kenjirou’s gaze over the piano, and his fingers froze. 

Awkward applause from the bystanders filled the air as the boy got up from the piano bench and made his way to Kenjirou. Kenjirou drew in a breath. He wouldn’t walk away this time. 

The boy stopped mere inches from Kenjirou’s face, but when he opened his mouth, no words came out. His brows were furrowed, but he didn’t seem angry. His eyes searched Kenjirou’s face, looking for answers to questions Kenjirou was probably familiar with. 

Kenjirou said the first thing that came to mind. “Your song is coming along well.”

The boy’s lips pressed into a thin line, but some tension slid from his shoulders. He smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, I’ve been working on it a lot lately.”

Kenjirou smiled halfheartedly in return. 

The boy’s face turned serious again. Hesitantly, he reached out and lightly touched Kenjirou’s arm. His big, brown eyes bored into Kenjirou’s.

“Can we talk?”

~~~~

The silver-haired boy set down a cup of steaming coffee in front of Kenjirou before sitting down opposite him. The cafe they’d picked was slowly emptying out as people went home for dinnertime, so they didn’t have to worry about strangers overhearing the conversation they’d have to tackle. 

“How do I start?” the boy wondered aloud. 

“You could tell me your name, for starters.”

It  _ was  _ strange that in the countless times Kenjirou saw him in his dreams he didn’t share his name even once, but then again, Kenjirou didn’t remember wanting him to. It simply hadn’t occurred to him. The boy’s appearance in his dreams had felt so obvious, so certain, that names didn’t even matter. 

The boy chuckled awkwardly. “Right. I’m Shigeru. Yahaba Shigeru.”

“Shirabu Kenjirou,” Kenjirou offered in return. 

“Right,” the boy --  _ Shigeru _ \-- repeated. “So… I dunno, I’m not sure if you know what I know or if this is just some kind of freaky coincidence…” He ran a hand through his already messy hair and chuckled again. “I don’t want to sound insane.”

“I think,” Kenjirou said, twisting his coffee cup around in his hands as he weighed his words, “that we both already know what’s going on, but neither of us wants to actually say it.”

Shigeru nodded, grimacing. “I mean, how do you even get to terms with the fact that you’ve seen someone in your dreams for your entire life, and suddenly it turns out they actually  _ exist _ ?” 

Kenjirou’s heart sank with relief. So he  _ had _ been right. Meanwhile, Shigeru’s cheeks turned red, as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d said it after all, and was now afraid Kenjirou would declare him insane. 

“Yeah,” Kenjirou simply agreed. “Yeah, that was definitely freaky.” He took a sip from his coffee. “Sorry for running away before, by the way--”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Shigeru reassured him quickly. “I get it. I mean, it made things a  _ lot _ more frustrating and lowkey creepy, but I get it.”

Kenjirou laughed quietly. The knot in his stomach unraveled slightly. It was strange, the way the boy in front of him was both a stranger and a person he knew inside and out. It felt like he imagined it would feel to talk to a random person you’ve stalked on social media for ages -- the way he felt the urge to tread around certain subjects with care to prevent revealing how much he already knew. Except Shigeru  _ knew  _ that he knew. 

There were no words for this feeling. 

“What do you think it means?” Kenjirou found himself asking. “Us knowing each other from our dreams before we even met in real life?”

Shigeru took a big gulp of the mug of tea he’d ordered. “Not sure. I vented to my friend Watari about it, and he was convinced we were destined to be together or something, but he is a hopeless romantic and also a bit of a jokester, so I don’t think I should take him seriously.”

“You actually  _ talked _ to someone about it?”

“Well, yeah.” Shigeru chuckled sheepishly. “Either  _ I _ would go insane being stuck on the merry-go-round of my mind or  _ my friend _ would think I’m insane for sharing something like this. The choice was easy.”

“Was it, now?” Kenjirou’s lips involuntarily tugged up into a smile. 

“... Also he caught me freaking out and I couldn’t for the life of me think of a lie convincing enough to cover it up.”

They shared a laugh. Kenjirou was shaken about how natural it all felt, and how something in him was convinced that it  _ shouldn’t _ feel natural.

“Seeing you, like actually  _ seeing you _ is so strange,” Shigeru said, voicing Kenjirou’s thoughts. “It’s like I’m meeting someone I’ve talked to online for ages and only just now got to meet in person.”

Kenjirou nodded.“That’s it, yeah.” He drained his cup. “I’m curious. What’s the first dream you remember having?”

“Bold of you to assume I remember anything,” Shigeru joked. “But let’s see… I think I went out to play somewhere outside, but I got lost along the way? I remember walking in a dark forest-y area, and I remember being terrified. Then I broke out of the brush, and I saw you, a lone child, in an abandoned playground.”

Someone dropped a brick into Kenjirou’s stomach. “Are you serious?"

“Yeah, yeah,” Shigeru said pensively, as if part of him was transported back into the dream. “I remember feeling so relieved that I wasn’t alone anymore. After that I’m not so sure, but--”

“Holy fuck.”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Hold on, I need another cup of coffee,” Kenjirou said, and got to his feet. A few minutes later he returned with a new steaming cup and two blueberry muffins. Shigeru accepted his gratefully. 

“You really gotta stop leaving me hanging like that,” Shigeru mock-scolded him. “So what is it?”

“That dream you had,” Kenjirou began in between bites of muffin. He couldn’t remember having anything to eat since lunch, and since he was well and truly going to miss dinner, he felt like the muffin was his lifeline. “I had it too. Well, from my perspective, at least.”

“What?”

“I remember being alone in the playground and being scared, and then you arrived, and things got brighter again.”

“Holy fuck, indeed,” Shigeru echoed him. “So do you think… when we saw each other in our dreams--”

“--we were actually _in_ _the same dream_ ,” Kenjirou finished. “That… explains a lot, actually.”

Shigeru hummed in agreement, chomping down on his muffin. Kenjirou met his gaze, and then they both started laughing. 

“It really is fucking insane,” Shigeru wheezed around his bite of muffin.

“It sounds like the plot of an anime,” Kenjirou agreed. “I can’t even-- Fucking hell.”

“Yeah. Wow… just”--Shigeru gestured with splayed fingers to underline his statement--” _ wow _ .”

Kenjirou felt the eyes of fellow patrons on the back of his head as they tried to stifle their laughter. In his mind, he flipped them off.

“Well,” Shigeru sighed, as he calmed down, “I’m certainly glad to know I’m not actually insane.”

“That hasn’t technically been disproven,” Kenjirou countered, folding the wrapper of his muffin in half again and again until a small triangle of paper remained. “Maybe I’m just a figment of your imagination.”

“Good point.” Shigeru kicked Kenjirou’s shin under the table and smiled sweetly when Kenjirou scowled at him. “I’m pretty sure you’re real, though.”

Rolling his eyes, Kenjirou pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the time. He swiped away the handful of questioning messages from Taichi and turned off the screen again. 

“Unfortunately,” Kenjirou said, getting to his feet, “the exam I have tomorrow is also real.”

Shigeru snorted. “Fair.” He quickly finished his tea, which Kenjirou figured must have been cold at that point. “I’ll pay the bill, you can go ahead if you want.”

Kenjirou shrugged on his coat and wrapped his scarf tightly around his neck. “Actually,” he said softly, “would you like to walk me to the dorms?”

~~~~

They were silent most of the way back to Shiratorizawa Academy. Occasionally Shigeru would start humming a song, only to stop and clear his throat when Kenjirou caught his eye. Or he would look up at the slightly cloudy night sky and smile to himself. Kenjirou didn’t mind the silence. It felt normal, the way it used to feel in their dreams. 

“Do you think we’ll see each other again soon? In our dreams, I mean,” Shigeru asked when they passed through the gates surrounding the academy. Shigeru slowed his steps slightly, letting Kenjirou lead the way. 

“I don’t know. Only time will tell, I guess.” Kenjirou would miss the dreams if they stopped, definitely. But something told him that they wouldn’t occur often anymore, now that they’d met each other for real.

“Well, in case we don’t…” They stopped in front of the dorm building. “Would you mind giving me your number?”

When Kenjirou blinked at him, Shigeru sputtered, “So we can contact each other and hang out again! Like, on purpose, instead of coincidentally running into each other.”

“Oh, right.” It was a completely reasonable request, and yet something fluttered in Kenjirou’s chest. Shigeru handed him his phone, and he added his number to Shigeru’s contacts. When he finished, Shigeru sent him a quick text, both as a test and for Kenjirou to get his number in return. 

“Well, then,” Kenjirou said. “I guess I should go inside now. I still need to study some more.”

“Of course, of course,” Shigeru nodded. “No, wait, one more thing.”

Kenjirou rolled his eyes, and was halfway through teasingly complaining when Shigeru stepped closer and enveloped him into a hug, silencing him instantly. A moment later, Kenjirou’s muscles relaxed, and he melted into Shigeru’s embrace. 

They both lingered for a second too long, but neither of them acknowledged it when they finally let each other go. Shigeru grinned at him, his big brown eyes sparkling in the warm light of the lanterns hanging from the walls of the dorm building. Kenjirou couldn’t help but grin back.

“It’s nice to actually,  _ truly _ meet you at last, Shirabu Kenjirou.”

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i hope to have fed you well, my yahashira children. until next time <3
> 
> find me on tumblr (@shitabukenjirou) or on twitter (@nox_et_stellae) if you wanna yell about Them with me (please. please. i am starving) or about literally anything else tbh


End file.
